Chasing Her
Автор
Catherine Blaze
Прочтений
530K
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54
Chapter 1
TANNER
Fuck. This is going to be the worst night ever.
Lights flash over the excited crowd as the punk band screams their incoherent lyrics to a hard-edged melody. Concertgoers jump, sing, and dance along to the music with joy on their faces, while the smell of stale alcohol, cleaner, and cigarette smoke fills the air. That familiar bar smell.
For whatever reason, Dan glossed over the fact that we were coming to a hole-in-the-wall to see a punk band.
Who comes to a punk-rock concert in dress sneakers, khakis, and a button-up shirt? Me. I’m that guy.
I stand out like a sore thumb, looking like a fucking moron as I’m surrounded by ripped jeans, band tees, and a wild variation of colored hair, piercings, and tattoos. We were supposed to go to some nightclub or lounge—I’m dressed for that vibe and their stupid fucking dress code.
Instead, he failed to advise me to change my clothes before we left the apartment and brought me here.
Dan’s the type of guy who doesn’t worry about the fine details, the etiquette in life. He goes to a fancy restaurant in joggers and a T-shirt, and yet somehow always gets away with it. Whereas I get the third degree.
So, it didn’t faze me when I saw his outfit choice.
Don’t get me wrong. This is totally my scene—I love punk music.
But this was meant to be a night out to mend my broken heart by grinding up on some random woman on a dark dance floor, which would hopefully lead to getting laid.
But the way I look in this crowd? Yeah, that ain’t happening here. These ladies are not into the preppy guy vibe.
Liza dumped me a few weeks ago, and not only do I not fit in here, my bro’s left me alone while he’s making out with some girl on the concert floor. I’m the one who’s supposed to be making out with the girl.
I sigh, looking down at my almost-empty beer, and slug back the contents. I need to drink more to get through this.
I start pushing my way through the crowd toward the bar. Finally reaching it, I squeeze between two women and lean my forearms onto the sticky surface, grimacing as I immediately lift them off.
That’s just perfect.
The bartender gives me a judgmental glare.
“I’ll take a Heineken, please!” I call out to him so he can hear me over the music, but he turns away and completely ignores me.
The girl to my right snorts out a mocking laugh, which catches my eye just as she shakes her head.
She’s facing the stage with her back resting on the bar, a glass of amber liquid in her hand, rings adorning her fingers. She’s hard on the surface, her jaw taut with a scowl, and a wall built up around her that you can see from a mile away.
Her long blonde hair is up in a messy ponytail with a few small braids woven in, a couple of small streaks of red and black laced throughout as well. Her Disturbed concert tank top reveals gray and black tattoos on her upper right arm, and she’s wearing black ripped skinny jeans, Chucks, and a cute gold nose ring.
She is totally pulling off the rocker girl look, and I’m immediately interested even though I’ve only got a side profile of her.
“What’s so funny?” I shout over the music.
The flashing lights flicker across her face, highlighting the devilish grin that tugs at the corner of her mouth. She leans in to respond while still focused on the stage.
“All you preppy boys and your premium beers. Do you have a homebrew setup too? Make your own IPA?” She pauses to finally look at me, quickly eyeing me up and down, failing to look me in the face. Her expression doesn’t hide her negative assessment of me.
She spins to face the bar, finishes her drink in one gulp, and places the glass down. She quickly glances at me again, this time our eyes meeting, and I’m blown away by her arctic blues shimmering back at me, accentuated by the dark, smoky makeup she’s wearing.
Even her heart-shaped face is perfectly complemented by her cute pink, pouty lips. This girl is fucking gorgeous.
My throat gets dry, and my heart rate picks up, looking at this stunning woman before me. I can’t help the way I scan over her body, unable to resist taking in this work of art in human form.
I can tell she works out by the way her shirt and pants hug her curves perfectly, and being a guy who likes to work out himself, this girl has it all in the right places.
She turns her focus from me back to the bar and raises two fingers in a salute to the bartender.
“Two shots of whiskey, please! And a bottle of Heineken for the preppy guy!” she calls out, her thumb gesturing over to me with a smug smile on her lips.
“Coming right up!” the bartender responds immediately, beginning to make the drinks. The same guy who completely ignored me a moment ago.
I’m the fucking outcast of this bar.
“What? Am I invisible?” I ask, my eyebrows pinched in frustration.
She looks back over at me, examining me again.
“When you’re at a bar like this, dressed like that? Then yes, you are invisible. This place is so not your style. Shouldn’t you be at some lounge where all the accountants go?” she mocks, raising an eyebrow before turning her focus back to the stage.
No, I should be somewhere else, like a dark nightclub, rubbing up on some girl who’s just as eager for a one-nighter as I am. But here I am, fighting to hold onto some sense of my pride.
I cannot get passed up by this gorgeous woman because of a poor outfit choice, so I lean in closer, feeling the need to explain myself.
“Despite what you might think, I like bands and places like this. I just wasn’t prepared, is all. My buddy told me we were going to a nightclub, then he brought me here instead. And he’s ditched me for some piece of ass he’s making out with. Now I’m stuck here being sized up by a beautiful woman who thinks I’m something I’m not. I’m not this lame preppy guy you make me out to be. I own a Disturbed T-shirt too, ya know.”
Why would I say that? What in the actual fuck, Tanner?!
I squeeze my eyes shut in instant regret. I have no game.
Her head whips toward me, and she chews her cheek, trying not to burst out laughing at my sad attempt to prove I’m more hardcore than I look tonight. But I’ve failed miserably.
“Oooooh, ya do, eh? You’re very badass then. You got a tough guy T-shirt.” She nods with one of those sympathetic, I pity you looks. “Let me guess, you had box seats at that concert. Some intense headbanging up there with the corporate duds,” she chirps, biting her lip to hold back her smile.
What is with this girl? I’m not this loser she’s making me out to be! Even though everything I say and do sure is making me look the part.
Before I can respond to her jab, the bartender brings us our drinks, and I throw down some cash. I tilt the head of my beer toward her, and she raises her shot, taking it like it’s nothing.
She doesn’t even flinch from the burn I know is running down her throat. This woman has a sass I find way too endearing, making me want to know more about the woman beneath the hard surface.
“Listen, I know you’re a tough girl who could probably beat my ass any day.”
She snorts a laugh in total agreement.
“But we both know you’re putting up this barrier because you’re trying to keep people at a distance, to hide who you really are,” I state confidently, and her eyes dart all over me, a glimmer of surprise behind them that I’ve deciphered her this quickly.
“You think you know me, eh?” she challenges.
“Judging me by my outfit and drink choice is your way of trying to distract from something else. Immediately trying to put me off. All girls like you have your reasons for being abrasive, but that doesn’t deter me. Like you’ve insinuated, I’m just the nice guy who finishes last, taking chances on people who don’t necessarily deserve it because I like to see the best in others. So there, now you know a little about me, too.”
She bites her lip to hide her smile and leans in closely. “Sorry to tell you, preppy boy, I’m not the girl who does the nice guys.”
I can’t help but chuckle. Even though she’s clearly checked me out several times already, she’s trying to deny her attraction to me.
I like that she’s nothing like Liza. She’s steadfast, and as much as she ridicules me, I want more.
Her energy has pulled me right in. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Dan ditched me.
The band stops for a break, and as the crowd cheers, the band’s drummer jumps off the stage and into the crowd. He pushes his way through and comes up to us, taking the second shot of whiskey right off the bar and downing it.
The shot that I paid for. I watch him, puzzled. What the fuck is he doing?
Then he takes this rocker girl into his arms, and they start making out.
Oh.
Utter disappointment sinks in my gut, but I still can’t help but look right at them. She peers at me with an angry side-eye, and I nod, taking the hint.
I take my beer and start heading out toward the curb for some fresh air. Clearly she’s taken. Out of my league.
And to her, I’m just a preppy douchebag, when really I’m an athletic, sports-loving guy who enjoys the same type of concerts as her.
If only I had the chance to prove her wrong.
I step outside the club and move to the left of the front door. Leaning up against the wall, I take a deep breath, then a sip of beer, enjoying my own personal misery.
I’m going to finish this drink, then ditch Dan to head home. Fuck this night.
As I stand here wondering what the hell I am doing with my life, the door to the club opens and, to my surprise, the rocker girl steps out under the neon lights of the marquee.
My heart leaps out of my chest. Looks like the universe may have just presented me with my chance after all.
